What Cannot Be Had
by squirrelchaser
Summary: I am not one to be taken by love; for the thousands of years I have lived I can happily say that that is one emotion I have not fallen victim to" (Legolas-Elrond)
1. Default Chapter

Title: What Cannot Be Had

Author: Squirrelchaser

Warnings: Slash (L/E), (G/E), starts out PG-13 first chapter, goes to mild R to be safe in next additions but nothing ever graphic, I promise! Just character thought.

Summary: "I am not one to be taken by love; for the thousands of years I have lived I can happily say that that is one emotion that I have not fallen victim to"

AN: love feed back, flame constructively

Disclaimer: own nothing…nothing! Tolkien owns everything…everything! (Characters, ect.)

**If the content of this story may offend you please do not read it**

What Cannot Be Had

*~Legolas~*      

Imladris is beautiful, not as much as the Forest of Mirkwood, but I am biased in my thinking. The vast expanse of green grass is luxurious, the waterfalls are the music of nature, but the trees are not as many as I am use to, and the House of Elrond is very…open. But it is where I shall stay, so I must make the best of it.

Dusk is falling over the Misty Mountains, and I am glad to have arrived to safety before night falls. As of late, little is safe, even for the elves. After seeing that Mithlilien is taken care of properly (I did not know what to expect of the stables of these elves but happily my expectations were exceeded) I was shown into the house for evening meal.

The inside of Imladris was indeed as impressive as the out; tall gracefully vaulted ceilings, ornate decorations which sang of lore. I must remember that Master Elrond has been a part of these depicted ledgends, though I wonder why he revels so much in the past. Ada would never have illustrated such memories so openly on the walls; he is even reluctant to verbally relate his stories of the past, especially the Last Alliance.

The beings of the house are different from what I expected. There are other ledgends besides Lord Elrond (whom I have not encountered, as of yet). Glorfindel, formerly Glorfindel of Gondolin, resides in Imladris, as well as the daughter of Elrond (Awen Evenstar), Isildur's last heir. There are many strange folk of races I have had little or no encounters with; Halflings, Dwarves, men, and the like and while I have seen the cities of men and dwarves, to have all these races congregate together in such close proximity (peacefully) is a first. It seems to me a strange gathering folk after having dwelled so long in Mirkwood, where wood elves prevailed and few visitors came through on a regular basis, save Mithrandir.

Curiosity satisfied, I cease my exploration and retire to my room. I think tonight at least I will forego the Great Hall and the elaborate feast, rather slip off into the shadows and into the privacy and comfort of my own company. Besides, I may find myself next to a dwarf at table, and…well…

So sleep comes to me as I lie in Imladris, an inner peace to juxtapose what morning brings.

What happened in the counsel the next morning of yet I am still not sure. 

*~Elrond~*

His eyes. His eyes!

My heart leapt at once into my throat; beside me, feeling my start Erestor glanced side long asking in his gaze, "What are you doing?"

I have known many fair elves, many wise elves, powerful elves, warriors. And now before me was a culmination of everything that was perfect, with a powerful reserve in the grace of his movements, a blazing, prideful soul in his eyes which will become my undoing.

His father, Thranduil, may have a love for silver but I have fallen for the Woodland King's gold.

*~Legolas~*

I am not one to be taken by love; for the thousands of years I have lived I can happily say that that is one emotion that I have not fallen victim to. Romantic love, that is to say for I bear plenty of healthy affection for those of my family and friends. Even by elven standards, I consider myself (and am considered by others) to be fair of face and voice, and being of high ranking among the elves of Mirkwood has made for many possible romantic encounters with a number of enticing females. However, I have long scorned the possibility (much to my father's distress) of finding a wife; love renders one vulnerable, occupies and poisons the mind; I had long assumed this and now I am sure of the fact.

And currently, as I leave the council of Elrond I find that, despite fury at myself, I am poisoned, and rendered useless though every ounce of logic in my soul protests. But love it seems is not interested in logic. Nor am I interested in the flood of new feelings that has come over me but reason and my distaste for this new situation has been overruled.

At the appearance of the elf lord at the counsel he hosted, my heart was gone. I had fallen into his voice, his movement, the dark hair that was so unlike my own, and as I sat listening to his clear voice relaying the story of Isildur's Bane, I was drowning.

Forced to action by bearing the news of Sméagol's escape, I relayed my message. I was almost ashamed! (And I have never known shame before!) I had been sent to Imladris to report a failure, which until being in the presence of Lord Elrond had not seemed very disgraceful at all; only unfortunate.

There did not seem to be an upset; as a matter of fact Mithrandir did not even appear troubled. I was relived, and the counsel commenced until the ringing of the noon bell where I was able to find myself alone to sort out my newly jumbled thoughts.

Throwing myself onto Mithlilien we tore out of the stables. I am not sure how long we were gone or where we went, all I could think about was him.

Now I understood the beauty of Imladris for it is a reflection of its founder, though the ethereal glow of the Last Homely House is but a faint shadow of Lord Elrond. The songs, the tales - though told to me briefly - did not do him justice. He was starlight, he was the darkest midnight, an undying legend yet as he was still living he was vulnerable. His eyes held the greatest of wisdom and had seen joy, terror, defeat and triumph of the ages, had fought along side the greatest of our kind. His hands were those of a warrior, a ruler, a healer, and given the presence of his three offspring, a lover.

I hated myself for this weakness that love has brought! Never before had I felt unworthy of anything, far from it; but now…to even dream of being held and loved by one so high seemed unattainable. He was one of the mightiest of the Firstborn, he had dwelt in the light of the Two Trees and his father watched on him from the heavens. But these were not the reasons why I was so sure that love was impossible for the two of us, for I was male, as was he. Love beyond the deepest friendship between two males was forbidden, deemed perverse and unnatural, and even if he should return my sentiments to sully the glory of this elven lord would be a wretched happening indeed. The fruitlessness of the situation and my yearning for this immaculate being humbled me, possibly for the first time in my life.

Sweet, sweet poison of love crept through my veins, unfulfilled it would slowly consume me, fulfilled it would condemn me and my lover…

Again I forwent the evening meal, and back in the cherished privacy of my rooms I paced, one hand cradling my elbow, the other hand clenched in a fist set to my lips where I gnaw at my fingernails. For the first time my body awake and keenly aware of its connection to my soul's desire; I was unable to think of little else except what I could not have, even the Ring of Power seemed unimportant. I wanted the Lord of Imladris.

There came a soft knock on the door.

I cease pacing, wondering who it could be; Mithrandir perhaps, or possible Aragorn. "Enter."

The elegant handle turns and the door opens.

My heart stops as the object of my thoughts enters the room, closing the door behind him and crossing the carpet until he stands an arm length away from me. He is tall, slightly taller than me, ageless, glorious. His mere presence makes me tingle, shiver, feelings I never knew existed rushing over my body till I know I will melt into a puddle at his feet, I just know it! I am sure he can see my knees quaking; I am sure he can see everything, and all will be lost!

"I am sorry to disturb your retreat,"

"There is no need to be sorry," I counter, sitting on a long reclining sofa. The bed is not far away. He sits next to me, body angled to face me; our knees almost touch. His gaze is piercing me right down to my shaking core; how young and foolish I feel, vulnerable to him, yet somehow I do not even care.

*~Elrond~*

Whatever I sought, I had gotten. 

I had lead females on in my youth because I could, not because I loved them – but starting a game knowing you are already the victor becomes boring rather quickly. Celebrían; we were very much the same; I had gotten her but she had also made it her quest to "get" me as well, so our union was a stale victory for the both of us. She was love, light and playful; simply fun with no heavy ties. We had both understood that upon marriage, and had joyfully raised our children and had parted ways.

Whatever I had sought, I knew in the end I would attain. Until now. Until Illuvitar had seen fit to breathe life into a slender shaft of sunlight that had filtered through the trees of Mirkwood, I knew that there were few elves of Middle Earth that, with some effort, I could not have made mine. Until his eyes met and held my own at the first bell of the council; then I was gone in his eyes, in his soul, and there would be no return. To me he was fair and golden as the morning sun which seems to shine brightest on him, blessing his very existence and he moves with dignity and pride that rivals the most regal of our kind.

I, master of Imadris, bearer of Vilya, warrior of old and herald to Gil-galad…now these things seemed irrelevant and unworthy to this god of the sun…surely he could not really be of Mirkwood! Surely he could not even be an elf…

And the first thing I crave so much is what I cannot have. I am mystified; I have never wanted a male lover before, but I have never more strongly desired any lover until I set eyes on this Prince of Mirkwood! To be lost in desire for something forbidden is death of your soul. My heart weeps for what will never be, yet sings for joy in this perfect, flawless creature!

I seek him out for business purposes, but he is nowhere to be found in the Great Hall; he seems to value quiet and seclusion. Erestor, giving me a funny look, points me toward Legolas' chambers; what fate or folly would have them be a breadth away from my own out of all the bedrooms in this vast house! And now he was standing before me, we were alone, and I could not have him.

"I have come to you as I am to send out scouts before the Frodo the Halfling is to depart, for news of the Wraiths, tidings of Gollum and other necessary information." Dignity and decorum long practiced is the only thing that keeps me from following the raw impulses of my body, especially with his eyes – oh those eyes! – looking into mine.

"I would travel back to Mirkwood for any possible information, for my kin are most familiar with the habits of Gollum," Legolas replies.

Inwardly I smile, noting that his tone is one of forced calmness. "That would be very well, and you would return to Imladris," I say, more a command than a request. "The scouts will leave tomorrow at dawn."

"Then I will depart from here tomorrow at dawn." His eyes say so much more.

I nod.

He is proud, he holds his head with stateliness yet he glows; there is joy and youth in his character. Scarcely know what I do I briefly reach forward and run my finger tips down his jaw line, and want flares in his eyes. He can see into my heart, and as he looks into my eyes I know that he desires me. Words are not needed; for long minutes we stand, gazing, and immediately know all yet we both are telling ourselves and each other that it is outlawed.

"I cannot let myself be conquered so easily, by love or by another elf," he says softly.

I drop my hand. "Very well," I nod, biding him good night; he follows me to the door, and I can sense his gaze follow me until I disappear into my bedchamber a few doors down the hall.

*~Legolas~*

I lie in bed, fury at myself tightening in a knot in my chest until I clench my fists in frustration. A few rooms down lies everything I want. Possibly, I could have had it tonight. Do elf lords sleep? What consequences are there for creeping through the darkened halls of Imladris to find out, to gaze upon the nocturnal exquisiteness of an elven lord as he sleeps?

Throwing caution to the wind I toss back the crisp sheets. My heart is in my throat as I move toward the door, slightly ajar, behind which so much lies! I push it open, just wide enough to let me through, and ease myself through the crack. His private rooms are immense and lovely, filled with lore and love, but it is short work to find the most intimate chamber holding the ultimate reward.

The bed cradling him is vast, making even his powerful form seem small in it; clearly it was made for two. In the soft starlight I can see his long form draped with a deep red coverlet. He is on his back, dark hair unbraided and spread out over the white pillow, eyes closed, head turned slightly toward where I stand, lips slightly parted. One long, elegant hand rests lightly on his chest, rising and falling slightly with every soft breath.

I am entranced. I cannot breathe; I dare not. Nothing can end this moment; nothing!

The moment stretched on and before I knew it, the pale fingers of dawn were creeping slowly across the bed, ready to seize us both into the grasp of daylight to push us on to our duties.

And so scarcely two days after my arrival, I am now pelting back to Mirkwood…and what a change two days has brought me! 

My father, ever vigilant, can tell.

For six weeks we prowl through Mirkwood, going as far as we dare in tracking this Sméagol, this foul creature, looking, hoping for any trace or tidings but there is none. At length, we give up hope and return to Northern Mirkwood.

"You will return to Imladris, Legolas, to report your findings – or lack of – to Lord Elrond. And," he smiled at me sidelong, "To tie up the unfinished business you may have there. I trust she is lovely?"

I twitch my mouth and shift slightly, unable to find a suitable answer to his prying question. "I will return to Imladris, and I will most likely be gone from Mirkwood for quite some time,"

Ada looked pleased, though I am guessing his idea of the reason of my absence varies greatly from my intensions. No doubt he would feel the opposite if he knew that I have every intent to accompany this Halfling in his quest as Elrond had requested of me, to represent the elves in this mission…And I cannot even think of what he would do to me and the Lord of Imladris if…

*~Elrond~*

            Scouts had returned from afar, bringing little news of encouragement. Gollum was unaccounted for, and while there were no tidings of the Wraiths…no news was not good news; it only left one guessing when and where they would return. It brought me great relief though, to see my sons return safely from their journeys.

Legolas has returned to Imladris. At last I have peace of mind knowing that he is here, that he is safe, that he is within my reach. Yet I myself asked him to accompany the Ring Bearer possible to his doom; for some reason my heart tells me that there is no other elf suitable for this journey, not even Glorfindel. The stealth and cunning of the wood elves may prove more valuable for this mission than a seasoned warrior.

The members of the Fellowship have been determined and they will depart in a week, taking with them my greatest desire.

In the meantime, I have a week, but he avoids me. Briefly I wonder at this; has he spoken with Thranduil? How much could the elf king know of his son's heart? Briefly I despair.

 I look into his eyes from across the room and watch him slowly melt, then he jumps back into awareness when another requires his attention, and exits hastily from the room and from my gaze. 

I smile into the palm of my hand. No, all hope is not lost.

At first I am the one initiating the unspoken looks, then I find him looking at me, a slight smile threatening to turn up the corners of his mouth and give us both away and I hold his eyes, something pulses hot in between us and I forget that there are others present.

*Should there be more?*


	2. Two

AN: Yikes…for those of you who reviewed, thank you very much! I didn't think this story would fly…but I'm so glad it did! Review, please, for it puts a warm fuzzy glow in my heart…short update, but I promise there will be more soon.

*~Legolas~*

Four days of these ridiculous stare downs take place, and I am becoming hard pressed to hide my growing physical let alone emotion reactions to his mere presence. 

I have been plunged head long into more love and the physical implications of longing in four days than I have experienced in my entire life! My body comes alive, in my dreams, in my waking, and I learn.

One night, as Elrond holds my blue eyes in his grey ones, he makes his way to the door. Not looking away I follow as he silently bids me, slowly, out into the night, into the seclusion of a garden surrounded by a high hedge that blocks all light from the house and nearly all sounds.

Under the stars, he is luminescent, delicate, yet I know he holds the power to possess anything he wants; he has told me in his eyes. He has told me many things in this matter, yet he chooses to state the obvious:

"You leave in three days," he shrugs off a heavy, ornate formal robe and tosses it aside.

Carefully I look for lust in his eyes and find none; his eyes only emit gentleness but I keep my gaze guarded. "Indeed," I reply, tugging at my hair until it is loose and flowing freely around my face and shoulders.

We are now pacing a slow circle like warriors in a stand off, yet we are lovers, and instead of fighting to the death we would struggle against each other in a fight for dominance of ecstasy. The circle is growing smaller; his body is growing nearer.

"You want me," his gaze is momentarily broken as he peels his tunic off over his head.

All the more obvious; I do want him…by the stars above do I want him! But I would not be so foolish to admit to him aloud. "You want me," I throw his words back at him, replicating his movements and shedding my own soft green tunic. Our small ring of stand off is becoming fringed with clothing, hair ties, his elaborate circlet cast atop the soft folds of his robe.

"Is forbidden," I remind him, belt hissing as it snakes off my waist with a sharp pull.

He raises his eyebrows, hands on the waistband of his leggings, and smirks. "It is forbidden, but only if we are caught."

That is true.

Still we pace, and finally we are bare and rippling in the moonlight. His body is sleek but more powerfully built than my own, refined and groomed with centuries more of experience and wisdom in…everything.

I stop but he does not, circling around to my back where I can feel the warm of his body emanating onto my skin. For the first time he touches me, ever so lightly trailing his fingertips up my side then brushing my hair off my shoulder and I nearly collapse against him for want of more contact. His fingers trail fire over my skin! 

No other has touched me, no one; ever.

I turn to face him, watching my hands as they trace up over his narrow hips to his chest, where I rest the tips of my fingers on his collar bone and look up to his face. He tilts his head so slightly and his experienced, expressive lips alight on my slightly clumsy, unsure mouth, but he is more than able to compensate for my lack of know how. I let down my guard slightly, melting against him and oh…his skin on mine is all I have dreamed of and more! Without meaning to I moan and he purrs, nearly a laugh in the depths of his throat.

Wrapping his arms around me he pulls me to the ground, the cool of the grass contrasting to the hotness of his body over me. His hands and his lips are everywhere; I am struggling as pleasure overwhelms reason; I am desperate for him, my own hands cannot touch him enough, my own awakening heightening when I hear him cry out my name in delight.

At length, when I think I cannot stand it anymore, he flips me over and I feel him, hot, huge, against the inside of my thigh.

Oh, no. I may be (as of yet) un-pierced and innocent, but I am not ignorant to the ways of lovemaking. He will not master me - no one shall! - and so begins the battle of determination and pride. We are desperate to take each other but neither wants to be the first – he is un-penetrated by males as well; I can see it in his eyes. Our fierce pride tightens to near snapping between us. 

Very well, I know what I can do that will make him furious. Pushing him off I stand, pick my clothes up from the ground and stalk off, still naked.

"Where, Prince of Mirkwood, are you going?" he calls after me, tone mildly inquisitive.

I turn; his eyes betray his tone and I am pleased. "To bed."

*~Elrond~*

For the first time in many thousands of years, I have a childish but very strong urge to throw something at the perfect and receding backside of Legolas. Oh, I love him, but even those that you love can make you angry (as Elladan and Elrohir managed to demonstrate almost daily when they were growing up)! I draw a small smirk of satisfaction when I hear Erestor's voice, just inside the door.

"Erm…good evening, Legolas…"

"Good evening and good night," came the golden elf's nonchalant reply.

Unlike Legolas, I have not the desire to traverse the halls of Imladris with nothing but my cast off clothing held in a practical spot and I dress quickly, billowing robes hiding the uncomfortable evidence of our incomplete liaison.

The fact that he was forbidden was no longer an object to me. I was sitting under the starlight thinking of exactly how I would finish what had started when Glorfindel came through the small opening in the hedge.

"I had almost forgotten about this place," he began conversationally though he looked surprised to see me, and maybe a little troubled?

Nodding in acknowledgement, I wondered if he had a purpose in coming here.

"I just saw Legolas of Mirkwood making his way to his rooms in a rather interesting set of attire, or rather, lack there of."

That was the last thing I wanted to think, much less talk about. Glorfindel definitely does not have a purpose in coming here. 

Trying to hide my frustration I rise, bid the elf lord good night, and flounce off to my chambers where I can sulk, ache, and scheme in peace.

*~Legolas~*

I want Elrond. 

Anything less, any female, myself, anything else is unsuitable. Any acknowledgement of forbiddeness is now gone, replaced by the memory of his touch, his kisses, the scent of his skin and the swell and ebb of muscle under the taunt sleekness of his skin. I want his voice in my ears and his hands in my hair. I do not care anymore if it is what I should not have, nor indeed what will happen.

Again I am pacing in my room, fingernails against my teeth, uncomfortable, the furious pacing agitating me beyond measure yet I do not stop. Perhaps I should go to him after and submit, or perhaps with a little more encouragement he will submit to me after all, inexperienced I may be. Perhaps he is still in the garden…

Yes, I will go to him in the garden, for my want is swallowing up my pride…

Before I can change my mind I am racing out into the night, swiftly and silently skimming over the cool stone path toward the break in the tall hedge. As I near my destination I slow, making an attempt to stop the pounding of my heart. Breathing steady, I pause. 

There are strange noises; moans of pleasure coming from within.

I do not know what it was that prompted me to poke my head where it most certainly did not belong, but had I not beheld it things between myself and Elrond might have taken a very different turn of events.

In the moonlight, in the (unsuccessful) privacy of this enclosed garden, were Elladan and Glorfindel. Dark hair mingling with light, Elladan taking this powerful Balrog slayer, making him sob and plead with want between a stream of unending Quenyan love words. Elladan too was swept away in the bliss of his lover's body as Glorfindel moved under him, pleasuring him, making Elladan cry out as fervently as he; the dedication in their eyes was enough to make me cry. They were in tune to each other, every stroke, every kiss; they knew each other like they knew their own bodies. At the peak of their ecstasy they cried out as one, then fell boneless together tangling and kissing and murmuring promises of unending devotion.

Suddenly aware of the fact that I was trespassing on the most intimate of happenings, I fled down to the safety of my room, shaking; sweating. The love between them was so intense; there was no dominance…it did not seem weak; it was beautiful…and they were males. They were males! One of them was the son of Elrond! The other one of his oldest friends!

My mind was still in a jumble over its self when there was a quiet knocking at the door. I hesitated. Who could it be at this hour and what the stars would they want? Begrudgingly, I rose and yanked open the door…and nearly fell backwards when I saw that it was Glorfindel on the other side! At least he was dressed, and though his hair was down one could never guess he had had such an intimate connection scarcely a quarter of an hour ago. 

My brain and my tongue took a minute to function properly. "Erm…come in?"

Glorfindel stepped inside, closing the door and leaning against it casually, expression unreadable though his blue eyes are staring into me to the point of discomfort.

I sit on the couch but he makes no move to join me.

"I know what you saw earlier, Prince of Mirkwood."

He did? Raising my eyebrows I question, "And?"

Ever the diplomat, he continued. "I know that your father, King Thranduil, is known for his – forgive me – intolerance of things that are not conventional of elven society. I do not mean dwarves in this case."

My mouth twitches and I nearly smile. "I know of what you speak."

Emotion suddenly flashes through Glorfindel's eyes but his face remains unchanged and his words are low but steady. "I would do anything to protect Elladan; but I suppose you do not understand the nature of our relationship. If you understand anything I will say to you, understand this: I have lived, Legolas; I have fought, I have slain and I have died, and I would do all these things again if it meant keeping him from humiliation and shame."

I lower my gaze to one long hand resting purposefully on his sword hilt.

"Will you go for your knife?"

Slowly I lick my lips as realization of his fear comes. "Do not fear me, Glorfindel. I, unlike my father, would not expose you and Elladan to shunning and death." I hesitate and blanch as I think of what would happen if Ada were ever to find out about my…attraction. "What you and Elladan have," I admit softly, "Is beautiful." 

I wish I could have it.

Glorfindel nearly sags to the floor with relief, and comes to sit beside me on the couch seeming almost conversational. "And of you?" he probes gently.

"And what of me?" I return, startled at the question and my own reaction, perhaps harsher than I meant; I have always shielded my thoughts and feelings jealously. I inhale sharply, and let it out through pursed lips. "No, forgive me," I say quickly as he shrugs and makes to leave. "I…" Suddenly I long to tell him of my wants, of what I cannot have, of what nearly happened, and even though I am sure he would understand, it is not my place to expose the Lord of Imladris. "I love another," I finally settle on. "But, like you, it is forbidden and to bring to light the both of us would not be prudent."

Regarding me with gentle comprehension Glorfindel sits down again. "A male?"

I nod. I am shocked at myself; I have never opened my thoughts to anyone like this; not even my friends and family.

In an even gentler voice he murmurs, "Your first?"

"My first anything. His first male." Taking Glorfindel into my confidence is a welcome liberation; I must tell someone or I will pace myself into the floor and chew my fingers bare!

"Love is precious, is it not?" He smiles. "Have you made love?"

Elf lords of all kinds can look mischievous!

"Almost," I admit. "We got in a bit of a disagreement of who would take who. Maybe we are both afraid, though I never thought that lovemaking could be…the way you and Elladan were together." I have a feeling he could see much of my thoughts, just like Elrond.

Glorfindel raised his eyebrows, but he was smiling to himself as his gaze searched my thoughts. "I think you need to go to the one you love, and trust him. Relax. Do not think about anything else except his touch, and in the end you will not care who takes who. Love making is beautiful if you let it be. It is not about power, or being mastered."

Oh. I did not let it be beautiful.

And I have already forgone once chance; the Fellowship will depart in a matter of days; what am I to do?


	3. Three

*~Elrond~*

I would give myself to him, I decided. I would give anything to him, of only it meant being by his side or in is arms. At first I had refused because I had not anticipated his resistance but that error had proved treacherous, and then he was gone.

Gone! He would really be gone in a few days...The thought made a sob rise in my chest; the six weeks he had been absent I could think of little else except his safety, and now I will wonder for him again. Yet there is so much more at stake and I think of love! Love has the capacity to make one very selfish indeed.

I will give myself to him, I need him, I must go to him now! Thankfully he is not but a few hurried steps outside of my chamber; my heart begins to beat faster in anticipation. I can already feel his skin under my hands, feel him arching under me in delight…

Without even knocking I burst in on his bedchamber, stopping short as I see him sitting next to Glorfindel.

"Elrond," Legolas says softly, looking surprised but pleased.

Surprise, shock cross Glorfindel's golden features, and he exchanges a look with Legolas, bids us both a late good night, and makes a hasty exit, closing the door firmly behind him

Suddenly I have a feeling these two know something I do not, but as of right now I am not troubled by it; there are more pressing matters at hand. Any thought of what transpired in the garden is forgotten and rendered irrelevant, we forget that the cup of love we are about to drink from is forbidden, and we forget that discovery would mean shunning or even death. All this is vanished by both of us as he stands, reaching toward me and whispers, "Come to me. Come to me and take me. Take me now."

*~Legolas~*

I had never hoped for love such as this. I had never dreamed of love like this. The falling of silk and velvet to the floor, the long fingers untangling braids. The guidance, the fear and ignorance evaporating from my pleasure in heart and mind. The wash of dark hair over fevered skin, the eyes that held mine and spoke a thousand words without a breath of sound. The slow, rhythmic dance of love making. The screams into the darkness of the night.

We awoke slowly, still a tangle of limbs and love. Waking up beside him after a night of love making was the most beautiful part yet…or maybe it was just that each new thing seemed the best. I am not sure. He is so beautiful; dark hair entangled with my pale hair and fingers, eyes still half lidded in sleep but he smiles at me, whispering, "Good morning." 

I kiss him gently and he smiles again, watching me as I sit up slowly, wincing slightly. Walking for the both of us might be uncomfortable today. He clasps my hand and rises too; I can see blood and semen smeared on the bed sheets and our bodies, but it is of little consequence.

Now instead of staring to antagonize we spend the last three days together. We must be careful of our interactions around others but every single moment spent in the presence of this elf lord is worth anything to me. I do not understand. How can love, pure and true love, be forbidden between any? 

Nights are passion filled, but on the last night he lies spent in my arms and murmurs sadly, "Tomorrow you go. We may never see each other again." He means: the task you take is dangerous; deadly. 

"Do not think of such things," I reply, kissing his ear, but the same thought clouds my mind. 

*~Elrond~*

I watch from the gate as the Fellowship departs. 

His hair shines in the sunlight, brighter than any jewel, any burnished metal, moving slowly further and further away. I fight the urge to run after him, take him in my arms, and forget that everything else exists as I lose myself in the scent of his hair as I close my eyes.

I see Arwen standing next to me and in her eyes there is doubt, fear, and love which mirror my own feelings. We worry.

I wonder at the corruption of men, the corruption of a soul and agonize of the trouble that weakness brings. I agonize of the weakness of my own soul, for whom it loves. Sometimes I think that it would be best if no one loved; that way no one would hurt.

*~Legolas~*

The other members of the Fellowship are oblivious to my internal debates during the day, and only at night am I free to let my mind wander back to the happy days in Imladris, into the nights that seem so long ago.

Perhaps the only one who can see my turmoil is Mithrandir; he is wise and sees much from beneath his bushy eyebrows. While he says nothing directly his thoughts touch mine, offering a soothing word of encouragement. 

It shall all be done and over with soon, he says. Patience.

Yes, patience. With the passing of time, one must learn patience. For more than two thousand years patience is something I had never needed until I met Elrond.

Lorien. 

Briefly I fear that the Lady of the Wood shall see my heart and for a moment I think all shall be lost! While she senses my trouble I do not think she can see my thoughts, and I breathe freely once again.

Alone among the silvery trees I miss Elrond, and mourn for the loss of the one who sensed my debate, though comfort seems to have arrived from the most unlikely of places…Gimli. He has followed me to my hide out, in the lower branches above a talan and thankfully is without that wretched axe.

He bows stiffly. "Master Elf,"

I nod in reply, wishing he would leave me alone.

Instead, grim and determined, he leaves the ground and begins to ascend toward my perch. "We dwarves," he grunted, "Are best in caves." He heaved himself up onto the ledge of the talan, and would have attempted to reach me but fearing for his safety I jump down. Gimli leans back against the broad trunk of the tree and heaves a heavy sigh of relief.

"Why do you follow me?" I question, hoping my voice does not betray my annoyance.

"You are troubled, Master Elf." 

Is that sympathy, compassion perhaps in his beady eyes? I narrow my own shrewdly. "And what is it to you?" I demand.

He raises his hands in a gesture of defeat. "If you wish me to leave you in peace, I shall. If there is a matter that troubles you that you wish to share, I will stay."

I am surprised. "Thank you," I say softly. "I am sorry for my hostility, but I do not think this a matter that you would understand."

"Elvish concerns," he grunts with a wave of his hand.

"Elvish concerns," I echo, smiling slightly to myself.

*~Elrond~*

In the shadows of the evening, I wait. I wait for the inevitable end that the passing of time brings, and I mourn. I mourn the loss of my daughter to mortality; the corruption of death and passing weighs heavily on my soul, the burden of the half elven. I think of Elros, and I miss him. I miss Aragorn, wishing that the burden that he must bear must not be so great. I miss Legolas, this brief, golden glimpse of what it is to love another (that is not your child) more than you love yourself. I worry for Legolas, await word of his safety, and mourn what shall never be.

There is a soft knock on the door and without awaiting an answer Glorfindel enters, taking a seat next to me in the window. "You are troubled," he says softly, and from his melancholy eyes I can see he is troubled as well. "The house is so empty."

"Yes." His blue eyes remind me much of Legolas, though Legolas has a spark of fire while Glorfindel emits cool wisdom of many, many ages. How I long to tell him of my sorrow, fear, longing but I cannot. I cannot even tell my greatest friend of my sins and I seem to hurt even more.

Pain is a bitter emotion, but prohibited love is worse; it is a sweet poison that once you have had a taste of it, you will forever be in need of more, and the more you have the more you will suffer. If it was me alone, suffering in unfulfilled want, I could bear it. The thought, the mere possibility that if we were ever known that this golden flame could be snuffed out in what would be allowed kin slaying…I could not bear it.

*~Legolas~*

I see him again, three months from now. The burning of love has not died between us; at Elessar's wedding I catch his eye and our hearts sing out to each other, but reason muffles it painfully in my chest. As I watch the wedding I am joyful for my friend as he joins with my lover's daughter, but admittedly my heart aches with a slight pang of jealousy. For they may stand before all and profess their love, but others, such as Glorfindel and myself, cannot.

My penchant for unorthodox liaisons have also manifested in the deepest but most unlikely friendship in the dwarf, Gimli, who can sense my internal turmoil. "And what is it that troubles you so, Master Elf? Is this not to be a joyous occasion?"

I do not answer; I cannot answer. I cannot even look at him for fear that I shall give myself away.

Sensibly the dwarf says nothing, standing on his stout legs one hand on my arm as he offers his silent support, and I am grateful.

Before our company parts ways, Elrond and I steal a moment alone in the shadows of the woods, the trees whispering to me, "Forbidden, sinner, illicit lover…you will never have him."

I ignore them, not caring for they tell me what I already know. We have this moment, I have this moment, reveling only in the bliss of love, the shining of his eyes and the scent of his skin as his dark hair flutters in my face. Again love has reduced my reason to jelly but I do not curse and fight the emotion now for it has brought me Elrond.

"That you and my sons have returned safely from the War of the One Ring will forever be my greatest joy." An embrace, a kiss. "And you must know that I belong to you and to you only."

My heart catches in my throat at his words of devotion and I long to sob and be held by him, be seen by everyone together, to sing out to all of Arda that this is the one I love! But he is the bearer of Vilya; to sully his legend to the eyes of others by acknowledging my heart…I would never forgive myself. I cannot make my tongue function to return his words of dedication but looking into my eyes he kisses my forehead.

"I know," Elrond whispers, cupping my face to his chest.

Finding my voice I choke out, tears threatening, "For the thousands of years we have lived this is a heart beat in time…I wish…I do not want…!" It is not what I want to say but I am shaking and can think of nothing more.

"Shh," he soothes, and is about to say more, but then a twig snaps under an approaching foot and we jolt apart before Erestor rounds the corner.

And so we part; his dark hair and strong shoulders disappearing into the distance, moving softly with the strides of his mount, and not once does he look back to where I stand alone under the trees. Whether we will see, talk, spend time, or make love to each other again I do not know. 

I, Legolas Greenleaf, have loved one and will love no other, but it cannot be known for what I carry in my heart is forbidden, for all time.

~The End~

FYI: If you are a Legolas-Elrond fan, see Treachery…I know I was always looking for more L/E slash and had a hard time finding it, oh, and I don't have a beta reader so if any one is interested please email me; I really would like one and have had a hard time finding one from lists…


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